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crystal & sex

sex! sex!! sex!!! and speed!

The man you’ve been fantasizing about since you were a budding baby fag has just walked into the erotic temple of choice: your bedroom, the curtained backroom of a bar’s once-a-week lights out party , that open-all-weekend sex club, the conveniently out of town bathhouse. This sex god looks like the kind of man you want to give you the ass pounding of your life and, from what you can see, he carries the right tools to make this possibility a reality. As an added bonus, you’ve got the favors and are willing to share. You’ve obviously done your best to lure him in because he saunters right up to you and starts to peel out of his jeans or his briefs or to drop the towel. You can see that he’s ready and you know that you’re more than ready. As you reach for it, the conversation begins:

Über-hottie:

“Let’s make this really hot.”

You:

“You need a line?”

Über-hottie:

“No, I slam and I only fuck bareback.”

That little light bulb in your head blinks on and you tell yourself: “He must be positive or he wouldn’t want to fuck me raw.” Or, if you’re negative, “He must be negative or he wouldn’t fuck me raw.” Or “Tops don’t get HIV.”

Or “If he pulls out before he cums, it’ll be okay.” Or “With all the risks I’ve taken, I must be immune.

Or, possibly, you’re high enough that the light bulb blinks on and then off again so fast that you don’t have to think about any of this. And it’s on.